Diablo: Strange Aeons
by Gamedon
Summary: Scared by the boundless potential of the Nephalem, Demons and Angels alike enter a temporary truce with only one goal in mind - the destruction of mankind. Little do they know that some of mankind's finest warriors are by now sick of both factions... Who will win this melèe a trois? And what is up with the strange beings that appear to be allied to none?
1. Chapter 1 - A Stonefort besieged

_Somewhere, somehow, a pair of heroes whom you would definitely NOT expect to be working together were fighting to preserve their world, Sanctuary._

"By the light of Akarat, I shall be your judge and your jury! " the Crusader shouted whilst bringing down his mighty hammer.  
As his hammer made contact with his enemy a bolt of heavenly lightning smote down from the heavens, instantly vaporizing any enemies that dare try to blindside the holy warrior. Raising the hammer to the sky once more, the warrior readied his shield - an enormous towershield. Truly, it was more like a coffin lid then an actual shield, what with it's huge surface and grisly skull decorations. "By the light be damned! Humanity has suffered under your yoke for too long! "

On the other side of the battlefield, a grisly army could be seen tearing their way through demons and angels alike - doing their master's bidding with almost primal brutality. Seemingly neverending tides of undead flooded over the enemies, assimilating the fallen into their ranks. In the midst of all that carnage stood a pale man, chanting to his master Rathma. "This world can not abide you any longer! Dissappear into the soil, fiends! " With a wave of his scythe several corpses violently exploded in the midst of the enemy ranks, sending them into dissarray. "Vile creatures! Prepare to face the consequenses of your transgressions! " Another wave of his scythe followed, this time cutting through an angel - seemingly not noticing neither the angelic nor the infernal enemies sneaking up on him. What the enemies that tried to sneak up on the Necromancer's back did not realize, however, was that he had accounted for that - for at the same time his grim scythe swung, the corpses around him were ripped open and bones were pulled out of them. Watching in shock as their allies were being desecrated in such a manner, they were unable to react in time as the bones all starting flying towards them, impaling them with extreme prejudice.

Needless to say - the end result was not pretty.

"As much as I do not agree with your practices, I cannot argue about their effectiveness. Shall we wrap this up? I'll go have words with the commander if you keep the rest of the enemies out of our little discussion... " The voice belonged to the holy warrior of Akarat - whose hammer had just finished smashing yet another enemy into red paste and was now gazing at the spectacle with a conflicted look. After seeing his fellow warrior nod, the Crusader summoned forth a steed, burning bright with holy flames. "Akarat be praised! Angels, nor demons shall impede the crusade! " The warrior once more hefted the hammer high after mounting the celestial steed and started charging through the enemy ranks like a battering ram, all the while reciting one of the Sacred Laws of Valor. It would seem that Akarat favored this warrior, for his armor started to blaze with holy light as well. As the holy warrior was scouring the battlefield for any who dare still oppose the two, a fiery angel wielding a burning spear and a dark berserker soldier stepped forward. "Nephalem! Your misbegotten kind has tainted creation long enough. We cannot abide this. Prepare to die! " the angel shouted as he brandished his spear. At the same time the demon standing next to him started to grossly mutate - his arm started to become elongated, his head sunk into his chest cavity and his legs were replaced with arachnid razors.

Jumping off his spectral horse and dismissing it, the Crusader raised his shield just in time to block an incoming gout of flame, only narrowly avoiding a direct hit. "Still quite the charming one, aren't you Imperius? Pray tell, what caused you to ally with the demons? Don't tell me you got lonely... I'd imagine even in heaven there are services for that, friend. " "You may jest, nephalem, but the fact of the matter is that those of you who fought and brought down our brother Malthael are too powerful for your own good. Your filthy power must be destroyed, before all creation is doomed! "

Imperius. The Archangel of Valour and leader of the Heavenly host - brash, spiteful and as ferocious and hot-blooded as Diablo himself. Said to be both the greatest commander and strongest warrior to ever have lived. The holy warrior could feel a grin form on his face - he had always wanted to take on Imperius. After all, Imperius was the most vocal out of all the Angels in his hate of humans, even going as far as to call a vote for their extinction.

And thus commenced an epic melee. Spear met shield, all whilst blazing flames burst all around the combatants. Even if any of the other enemies tried to assist their commanders, the flames resulting from the clash rebuked them instantly. Strangely enough, the mutated demon did not make a single move, which picked the Crusader's curiosity. Instead, it appeared to be passively focussing on the Crusader's companion and his army. The scuffle between the Champion Of Akarat and the Archangel of Valour continued on for a while, with both combatants appearing to be evenly matched - another thing that the Crusader found strange. As a nephalem at the peak of his ability he should have been able to end it in a minute... Instead, he found himself being forced into a game of wits and skill - thrust, dodge. Block, dodge, strike. It was a strange sensation for the Crusader, who got used to being able to decimate entire armies of demons with a couple of blows. However, it was not an entirely unwelcome one as he enjoyed a good challenge. Pondering the angel's increased strength and resilience, he raised his shield to block yet another onslaught of fiery blows. Unfortunately, having misgauged the strength of each hit he flinched and was thrown off-balance.

Imperius knocked away his shield and was about to deliver a critical blow when suddenly, the spear stopped mere inches from his throat. Craning his neck to see why Imperius froze, he saw that Imperius' demonic ally appeared to be twitching and emitting - of all things - holy light. Stunned at the appearance of this paradox, the Crusader did not even realize both the angels and the demons alike had hightailed it out of the battlefield. Seeing the demon twitch and convulse had left the warrior in need of a moment to process what exactly was going on - unfortunately, that one moment had been enough for the demon to let out a disturbing cry and jump clear past him. Before the Crusader could react the demon lept once more, straight into the midst of the army of the dead. Corpses were sent flying as the demon used it's appendage to violently tear through the armies conjured by the Necromancer. Worse, it appeared to be capable of strong necromantic magic itself - unusually strong even for a demon - for it assimilated each and everyone of them. The corpses of both friend and foe were consumed, turning the demon into an unstoppable fleshy behemoth. A truly disgusting sight, it looked as if someone had created a sickening hybrid from Azmodan and Belial's remains -twice as lethal as both combined, three times as ferocious. This, of course, was without mentioning the smell... so disgusting it even dwarfed Ghom's putrid scent.

The Necromancer had been viewing the destruction of his army with disgust and slowly started turning towards the Crusader. "Hmph. Looks like this one will be a challenge. Never before have I seen such blatant disruption of the balance of this world... Crusader! Are you still capable of fighting or am I on my own? " the Necromancer spoke, whilst his eyes were starting to glow with an eerie blue light. The Crusader, on his part, righted himself using his hammer and took a look at his equipment. He had sustained wounds and was rather fatigued as he had taken on the brunt of the hybrid army attacking the Stonefort, but otherwise still believed he could muster enough strength to bring this foe down. As he stood up, he shouted towards the Necromancer. "Keep this walking disaster busy! I shall recite the holy laws and invoke the Avatar of Akarat, for I do not think our normal attacks will have a lot of effect on this walking crime against creation! " Having said that, the Crusader planted his hammer onto the ground and genuflected, placing his hands on top of the hilt of the hammer in prayer. "Very well. Do take note that I will not be able to keep this walking desecration busy for long. It only gets stronger from any of my necromantic summons - thus, it will force me to rely on my martial training. " The Necromancer's scowl turned into a grin... It'd been a while since he had the pleasure of taking on a challenge of this scope - it was not since he and a certain Wizard had slain Malthael that he had felt such a rush.

Dodging a swipe from the behemoth's claws he twisted his body into a roll, landing near a pile of ash left over from one of the Crusader's many, many light-infused onslaughts. " _Well... at the very least, that abomination cannot use them either..._ " Summoning a spectral scythe, he assumed a stance that would allow him to react to any and all attacks and waited. As the beast reared back for another strike, the warrior's scythe met the beast's claw in a spectacular clash - allowing the Necromancer to show the beast that while he might not be as powerful as other nephalem were in close combat, he was not to be underestimated. However, the beast proved to be quite resilient - even without an army of corpses to snack on. Every time the Necromancer cut off one of its many appendages, two more grew to replace it, all the while causing the creature to become even more horribly disfigured. "Hurry it up, Crusader! I may not be able to keep it busy for much longer! " the Necromancer shouted, as he summoned forth a wall of fossilized bones to stand between the Crusader and a blast of white flames. Unfortunately, in doing so he failed to pay attention to the appendage that had been creeping up on him and the beast got ahold of him - having free reign to smack him about for a good minute, afore throwing him aside like a ragdoll. The Priest of Rathma ended up impacting a dead tree with his back, which left him completely vulnerable and at the mercy of his opponent. Smashed into a tree and viewing events unfolding through goggles of haziness, a beam of bright light in the corner of his eye and the demon halting his advance on him were the last things he saw before he blacked out due to fatigue and pain.

The demon had halted his advance on the unconscious Necromancer, his attention caught by the light as well. Craning one of it's many heads to see what happened, it appeared to be surprised to see that a flaming juggernaut had taken the place of the Crusader. "By the light be damned. I do not know by what infernal construct you aqcuired your dual nature of holy and shadow, but I shall not allow you to make such a mockery of the holy light of the Zakarum! Face my holy flames, wretched spawn! " And thus the Champion Of Akarat, also known as the Avatar of Wrath charged forward, great maul in hand.

* * *

 **Author's notes  
**

Hey there! Thus ends the first chapter of this Diablo III fanfic you are reading - as well as my first fanfic ever...

If any of you end up wondering how in the heck I thought of this concept, well...

I was playing the Necromancer with a good friend of mine and, as a Crusader main myself, wondered what would happen if the two ever ended up having to fight on the same side. From there on my imagination escalated to an epic story, filled with all the Nephalem ( a.k.a the playable classes, both genders existing as seperate characters ) and engaging in battle against both the forces of light and dark. I have no idea where to go ( alright, I am lying... I do have a general direction / setup in mind ) but judging how the next couple of chapters went ( which will be updated by the time you read this ) I think it'll be interesting to see where improvisation will bring me.

And in case any of you had read the mess this fic was before I updated it - thank you! Out of necessity I was forced to use the mobile app to write these stories, so I was forced to go back and update these chapters ( 1-3 ) to make sure the spelling and formatting were correct once I finally got my mittens on a friggin' pc.

Hope you guys enjoyed, and please leave a review if you'd like - heck, I'd even take suggestions for this fic!

 **14 sept 2017:** _Final edit and reupload. Fixed some more errors, flushed out some more details and made the chapter as a whole "flow" a bit better._


	2. Chapter 2 - Breaking the siege

_Truly, the Crusader had become Wrath incarnate. Charging at the beast, he met its attack head on.  
_

Wielding both Fire, one of the base elements of Creation, as well as Akarat's Holy Light he was more than an even match for the foul construct in front of him. As he charged the necromantic beast with hammer raised, bolts of holy lightning impacted all around him. During this so called Holy Blitz holy lightning converged upon his hammer as well, each time it was brought down on the beast. However - much to the Crusader' s surprise - the beast, by now nearly nothing but a writhing blob of flesh, jaws and tentacles, blocked each and every one of his attacks by making skillfull use of its many bladed tentacles. Not that the Crusader seemed to care - the last time he had felt this kind of thrill during combat was when he and a Demon Hunter had fought the Prime Evil atop the Silver Spire. As he dodged and blocked the monster's bladed appendages, he pondered a way to bypass the demon's defences and realized he would have to finish this quickly, for he was getting fatigued and was sustaining many wounds. Though slighty offset by the fact that he had assumed the form of the avatar of Wrath and thus was capable of some regeneration, it would not allow him to outlast the damage he was sustaining...

And then a idea hit him. A grin appeared on his face ( or would have, if the Crusader hadn't looked like a spectral giant wearing flaming black armour ) and he focussed, starting to recite a chant whilst blocking and dodging as many attacks as he could. "You are quite a disgusting, resilient thing aren't you? You did a good job making me work for it and I actually had fun, as much as I hate to admit it. Now... this might come as a shock, but this the end! " As he finished his sentence, he grabbed ahold of multiple tentacles and squished them in his fist as tightly and snugly as possible whilst shouting to the heavens. "Akarat, temper my will with your righteous fury! Imbue my rage with the winds and allow Sanctuay to soar once more! "

Not a moment later, a blue bolt of lightning struck both the warrior and the demon - just in time as well, for one of the demon's many fanged mouths had started to elongate and its sharply forked tongue had nearly managed to reach him. The avatar's armor had turned a blackened blue, now crackling with natural lightning and electricity - leaving the demon stunned in every sense of the word. The warrior let out a laugh and proceeded to taunt it, stepping on one of it's limp appendages and crushing it. "It's not often I have to switch the elemental affinities of my avatar form. Needless to say, it is often quite a shock to my enemies when they find out I am capable of utilizing the elements of Fire and Lightning in their base forms as well. " The beast, stunned out of a mid-air lunge, could do nothing as the warrior started hammering down on its tentacles, one by one, whilst they were still incapable of regenerating. Raising his hammer high to the skies and infusing it with lightning for one final, crushing blow the Crusader let out a raging roar and brought the hammer down...

... only to be stopped at the last second and promptly be transformed back to normal.

Falling on one knee and using his hammer to support himself, he realized he did not have enough wrathful energy left to maintain the form. Worse still - the fatigue was starting to kick in and the demon was still alive. Wounded and enraged, the hideous blob was starting to inch towards the wounded Crusader and the unconscious Necromancer. "Well... I guess at the very least, the next person to have to deal with your ugly, sewn-together carcass is going to have an easier time finishing you. It would appear Akarat decrees my service completed... I'd hoped for a death a bit more heroic though. " The Crusader gathered his last remaining strength, readied his weapon once again and steeled himself for one final attack whilst shouting "Come and get me, infernal spawn! You may kill me, but my apprentice shall carry on the Crusade in my stead! " The demon lunged at him - only to be utterly brutalized and beaten down by a massive golem made of bone and flesh. Craning his neck to the right, the Crusader started to grin. "Well well, friend. Finally awake from your little dirtnap? " "My apologies, Crusader. It would appear I was out cold for a bit. Tend to those wounds... I shall send this wretched spawn back into the void from whence it came and put an end to this walking imbalance! "

Such were the words of the Necromancer, who had finally recovered consciousness and was now chanting the most forbidden spells known to the priests of Rathma. "Decay and rot! Rathma is on my side, and you shall make a fine offering to add to the cycle! " Having shouted his declaration of war, undead started to flood the area. Tombstones started to appear around the monster whilst multiple varieties of skeletal monsters rose from the ground and bones were ripped from the monster itself to serve as armour for the priest of Rathma. "Let us see how good your necromantic assimilation truly is, balance breaker! Face the strength of one empowered by Rathma himself! " Knowing the being could only assimilate flesh and had just lost it's remaining bones to the Necromancer, he was confident in his victory. Skeletal archers and mages alike started to pelt the wailing blob as hordes of doomed souls rushed it and started tearing into it. Watching the spectacle, the Crusader whistled, though he was not quite sure how to feel about this disturbing scene. "I'm going to have to repeat what I said before - I do NOT agree with your methods, but I cannot deny their effectiveness. 'Tis a good thing we are on the same side, for I might have had trouble with your armies. On the plus side though, it would be pretty nice to fight enemies that don't feel the need to scream so much... my ears are still bleeding from all the screaming those demons and angels did... "

At the end of it, the demon's original body was regurgitated out of the blob of flesh as it exploded, expelling it with brutal force. Yet it appeared it still wasn't enough - though missing nearly all of it's legs and arms it slowy but steadily crawled its way over to them whilst absorbing whatever unlucky corpse was still in its way. Summoning a dark spectral scythe - his own weapon had been broken in the scuffle - as the horde of minions turned to dust and ectoplasm the Necromancer found himself nodding in agreement. "Untill today I would never had thought it possible but I agree with you, warrior of Zakarum. Both of us individually are strong and would likely end up killing each other at the same time if we were to ever face off, but together we are a perfect embodiment of the balance this world requires. Offense and Defense. Light and Dark. Might and Magic. Now, let us finish this! " Jumping forward in a ferocious lunge, he swung the scythe at the mutant demon's chest, slicing away a part of the protective carapace that kept its sunken head hidden. "Crusader! I shall imbue you with my remaining stamina - imbue your hammer with lightning and crush its face! " As the Necromancer finished speaking, he held his hand to his chest, ripping out a blood-red spectral orb. Visibly pained but unhindered he threw it at the Crusader, who absorbed it. "Very well. Remember though... the glory belongs to us both! Neither of us could have done this without the other and don't you dare say otherwise! " And once more, the Crusader hefted his hammer to the sky, imbueing it with natural, unaltered lightning. With a deafening crash the warrior teleported into the air, wearing his trademark snarky grin. "Don't mind me... just felt like dropping by! Give my regards to the other spawn I've sent back to hell. " The Crusader looked like he was having the time of his life whilst he was falling back down - a laugh that was replaced with a look of seething rage as he came crashing down onto the enemy, hammer first.

With one final inhuman scream as its weak point was caved in, the monster lay vanquished and smoldering for all to see.

"Well done friend. Could not have done this without you. " As the Crusader fell onto his back, panting and wheezing, he addressed the Necromancer who was similarly keeled over and gasping for air. "Likewise, Crusader. I cannot help but think we were supposed to meet, that fateful day in New Tristram. Perhaps Rathma... or even your prophet, has set this in motion. " Both Necromancer and Crusader looked deep in thought, unsure of what the next day would bring. The only thing that both men knew for sure was that something was afoot, and it would likely be up to them to set right the balance once more. And as the Crusader nodded in affirmation, both men stood up, dusted themselves off and limped back to the fort to get some well-deserved rest and healing.


	3. Chapter 3 - A short break

_In the Stonefort's mess hall cheers and shouts of celebration could be heard, as soldiers and civilians alike drank to their hearts content. Unfortunately, the evil never rest - and so, there is no rest for the good either. At best, both forces achieve an interlude... a fragile Balance, hanging on a razor wire.  
_

The news that two heroes had nearly singlehandedly lifted the demonic siege spread around quite quickly, most likely due to the fact that every person present in the Fort had been living there for years already and thus were intimately familiar with each other. Cheers and celebrations could be heard as wine flowed, massive feasts were served and bards competed against each other in order to see who was the best drunken singer.

Unfortunately however, for two solitary figures sitting in a quiet corner of the hall the time to relax had not yet arrived. They would have to make do with a quick nap and eating during their discussion on yesterday's events, as well as what they could possibly be a premonition of...

"Crusader... what do you make of the beast that we fought yesterday? In all my years as a Necromancer I haven't seen anything quite like it... " uttered one of the figures to the other. "Well, first off... we've been through so much together by now that we might as well start using each other's names. Unless you are too shy, of course, " replied the other man whilst flashing a cheeky grin. As the man was taking a swig from his tankard, the Necromancer sighed - it was at times like these that the Crusader really irked him. For all his power and the responsibilities that he shouldered, he still tended to act the part of a really, really snarky prankster at times. How much of that was a facade, the Necromancer could not tell however...

Just before he could formulate an annoyed response, the Crusader spoke again. "The name is Whitestrake, Crusader of the Zakarum and Akarat's Chosen. I used to have a different name, but I have long since cast away that identity in order to serve the faith... a story that is best saved for another time. As for your question, unfortunately I am as clueless as you are right now. What I can tell you for sure however, is that the holy energy used by that... " - the Crusader made a disgusted face - " THING... was somehow different to the element the Paladins, Crusaders as well as the Monks of Ivgorod use. Almost as if it were tainted with infernal energy... " The Necromancer frowned as if deep in thought, before replying once more. "Could you elaborate on that? For example, how do you channel holy energies in combination wih fire and lightning? I thought it was impossible to use anything BUT holy or shadow magic once you are attuned to either. My own elemental knowledge is rather limited right now and mayhaps your explanation will help me reach a new understanding on this phenomenon. "

The Crusader finished the piece of bread in his hand whilst giving the Necromancer a thumbs up. "Well, I assume you know how the elements in general work ? Base elements of nature, and all that? When one casts or utilizes one of the base elements, they are in fact calling upon Sanctuary's natural forces: Fire, Cold, Lightning. This much you likely already know. However - Holy, Shadow, Arcane and Poison are different. This, you likely know as well. " The Necromancer nodded and waited for the Crusader to finish yet another swig of his tankard. Setting the tankard down once more and pushing it to the side, he continued on with the explanation. "Honestly, I think the Wizard that fought alongside you against Malthael can explain you the specifics a lot better then I can. I'll try my best however. " Clearing his throat, the Crusader waited untill he received an affirming nod from his colleague. "That being said, I'd heard tell that the element of Arcane is actually the power of Time and Space given form - neither being inherently evil or good. Which brings me to Holy and Shadow... these two elements are by definition good and evil, bound to their respective realms of the High Heavens and the Burning Hells. As for the remaining elements... I have no idea, to be honest. Now, friend... Tell me - have you ever seen an icicle or a poison cloud infused with holy magic? " The Necromancer thought for a minute and realized he could not think of any such combination.

"I thought as such. From what Deckard Cain once told me - Akarat bless his soul - this is because Poison and Cold are considered 'evil' elements, mostly wreaking destruction instead of creating or something like that. Fire can be harnessed for mankind's progress and well-being, so it's considered one of the good elements along with Lightning. " The Necromancer nodded. "Certain elements being considered 'evil' is not new to me - pray tell, what does it have to do with how you channel - "  
The Crusader held up his hand and stopped the Necromancer before he could finish his sentence. "We'll get to that later. Now where was I... ah, right. Good and evil elements. As I just stated - arcane is the most neutral of the elements, having existed far before any of the currently known realms came into being. This also allows it to be fused with any of the other elements, or transmuted to other elements. Take, for example, some of the things your Wizard companion managed to pull off - transmuting arcane spells into different elements and such... This is made possible because arcane energy innately contains neither shadow nor holy influences, unlike aforementioned good and evil elements. " The Crusader stopped for a moment, apparently pondering on how to continue, before resuming. "Something similar can be done with both shadow and holy magic as well... For example, shadow magic will not react very well to holy energy or any of the 'good' elements, and vice versa. However, when combined with an element of the same inclination the resulting energy is 'purified' of its impurities. It's the reason why Crusaders are capable of creating holy lightning and holy fire; by purifying the base elements with aforementioned holy energy one can destroy any and all traces of infernal energy, in effect fusing two pure elements. In the case of the holy element it's something only the most dedicated and true such as Crusaders, Paladins as well as the Monks of Ivgorod are taught... " The Necromancer once more gave the warrior a inquisitive look, and immediately got a response from the Crusader, all the while being shown one of his trademark cocky smiles. "The reason only certain people can pull it off is because of a couple of reasons. Most people have one or three elemental affinities. People with an inclination towards shadow and holy, however, tend to be disadvantaged when it comes to using the other elements. Which is how the stereotype you were led to believe in came to be, I suppose. Aside from that... a certain purity of heart is required to wield holy energies. Which is one of the many reasons why shadow and holy usually don't mix... " The Crusader ordered another tankard whilst the Necromancer mulled over the knowledge the man had just passed on to him. "I'd like to add one thing though - the Crusaders and Paladins of the Zakarum, and the Monks of Ivgorod are the only ones known thus far who have actually learnt to weaponize holy energies as its own element... most people - even those with the required inclinations, training and purity of heart - need to dilute the holy element with a base element such as fire, creating a hybrid weakened to the point that a fully fire-based attack is stronger. I'd imagine the same goes for the Demon Hunters and their shadow magic, though I haven't had the time to ask during the sacking of the High Heavens by Diablo... " The table fell silent as Whitestrake raised his tankard and started chugging.

Finally, the Necromancer was once more the person to break the silence. "As enlightening as the treatise on the elements was, that still does not explain why it could absorb your light-infused attacks. Or USE the element for that matter, with how much foul and evil magic was radiating from it." The man named Whitestrake put his mug down once more and started to formulate a response. "I guess it may be the same general principle as a nephalem's strength. Two opposites combined, granting even greater strength and canceling each other's weaknesses. Remember, we have no idea how this guy was created... for all we know someone has managed to find a way to combine angels and demons, " finished the Crusader whilst grabbing another piece of bread. "Also, you really are the shy type aren't you? " Ignoring the Crusader's lighthearted jab and taking a sip of his own pint, the Necromancer replied. "That is as valid a theory as any, I suppose. We will have to find someone knowledgable to see if it holds any stock. As for the necromantic abilities it exhibited... perhaps it used to be a Master Necromancer before it was turned into the monstrosity it ended up dying as... " Getting up from the table, he turned away from Whitestrake. "...And you may call me Goran. Master Necromancer and one of the chosen priests of Rathma. Now if you'll excuse me, I must pick up my equipment from the Vecin Mystic... I had commisioned a transmogrification for my mask, as well as a certain enchantment. " The Crusader nodded in acknowledgement. "Very well, Goran. Say hi to Miriam for me, will you? I need to retrieve my equipment as well, so I shall be heading towards the smith first. My weapons and armor were pretty banged up... " The Necromancer nodded in response and started walking away. The Crusader, on his part, cleaned the table and sat down to ruminate on past events a bit more.

Afterwards he started making his way to the main hall of the Stonefort, where a temporary smithy's forge was located. A brusque man could be seen, speaking in a somewhat annoyed tone to a young man, who appeared to be his apprentice. "No, no, no lad! I swear, this sword you are forging is going to be so brittle it won't even penetrate a lacuni's fingertip beofre falling apart. Do it again, and make sure this time to not let it cool off this much! " The young man nodded and started to get to work again, though this time looking rather dejected. Whitestrake raised his hand and gave the man a quick wave. "Haedrig! Still reminding me of the traumas I ended up suffering because of my old master I see. You really ought to give the kid a break - he's going to die of a stress-induced heart attack before he can learn your  
craft, " stated the Crusader whilst chuckling. Haedrig turned around and returned the gesture with one of his own before speaking. "Hello there friend... I suppose you are here for your gear? Don't mind the boy - he has talent but he has to learn some bloody discipline... reminds me of my previous apprentice, gods rest his soul... " grumbled the blacksmith. Whitestrake feigned a look of surprise whilst recoiling. "Don't tell me... you were secretly a Vecin Mystic in hiding as well? " Haedrig let out an exasperated sigh and answered with a dour face. "Friend, I really wish you'd be more serious. But first off, how'd that makeshift set work out for you? "

The Crusader's signature flail and armour had been damaged during the trip to the fortress. The Necromancer and the Crusader had encountered scouts of the Angelic host and, at the time, did not yet realize they were hostile. This allowed them to get the drop on the duo and whilst they were quickly dispatched, they managed to give the two warriors quite a beating. Thus, he had to rely on makeshift equipment cobbled together by the smithy during the siege. Luckily enough, his shield - a legendary Crusader artifact named Jekangbord - was practically undamagable and thus he still retained some efficiency. Losing his shield as well would have been an issue - as most shields that were not custom-made for Crusaders could not bear the strength of their abilities, most regular shields were of limited use before breaking.

Whitestrake answered with an slightly annoyed look. "Well, for one the balance on both the armour and the hammer were both a bit off. The hammer did somehow manage to survive my enhancements and strength, however. As such, you deserve praise for that. It would appear that discussing metallurgy and alchemy with a wizard has greatly improved your ability to create and maintain items like these, something I can only commend. And I do take things seriously... it's just the way we Crusaders treat things, I suppose. At a certain point you'll have seen so many things during the crusade that you stop being surprised at anything at all and start seeing humour in any and all situations. " The blacksmith nodded in acknowledgement and motioned for the Crusader to follow him into an armoury, leading him towards a stand on which the Crusader's repaired armour rested. Shining brightly with an impossible-to-miss sheen, it consisted of a set of heavy black armour with white cloth woven into the chestplate. The cloth bore the holy symbol of the Crusaders, furnished with the finest black silk. The craftsmanship on the rest of the armour was impeccable as well, radiating a sense of divinity and stout resolve to all who beheld it.

Whitestrake took a look at it and whistled approvingly, placing his hand on the armour and inspecting every nook and cranny of it. "Colour me impressed, Haedrig. I already knew the ladies call you Mister Miracle, but it would appear that the order of Crusaders will have to do the same. To think that you managed to restore it from that torn-up state... you have my eternal gratitude, friend. " The blacksmith smiled. "Think nothing of it, friend. I have bad news regarding your weapon however - it was so utterly damaged neither might nor magic could fix it. " Whitestrake raised an eyebrow in response. "Why do I have a feeling I'm not going to like this? What happened to the remains of my master's flail? " The blacksmith coughed and offered up a nervous smile. "Well... you are wearing it right now. Myriam and I reforged Hellhewer into the missing materials needed for your armour. " Haedrig continued on whilst the Crusader was inspecting the set, describing the procedures he'd utilized during the repairs, its quality, and anything else he could think of. "I have a feeling - nay, I stake my pride as a smith on it! - that you can pass down this armour to your apprentice and, in time, it will become as legendary as the one wearing it. One more thing, by the way... It appears that during the reforging, aside from the general strengthening it received from the enchanted steel, it also inherited Hellhewer's ability to emit scorning holy light when enemies draw near. "

Whitestrake displayed a pleased grin. "Haedrig my man, if I were a woman I would have married you already - such is the extent of my gratitude. But unfortunately, the only gifts I can offer in return are my continued patronage and the honour of christening this armour - for it is because of you, that it now unifies the legacy of both my master's flail and his own late master's armour. You have not just assisted me - you have left the Crusaders a new set of relics to be passed down. " The blacksmith found it impossible not to crack a smile at the praise he was receiving from the stout Crusader. "Well, " said Haedrig whilst rubbing a speck of dust off of the chestplate, "First off - you do me too much honour. I would have helped you even if I hadn't known you were a Crusader. Second, I am one of the many indebted to you for your help during the attack in New Tristram. And aside from that... friends should assist each other, right? " The blacksmith started to sink into thoughts as his ally - nay, friend - Whitestrake nodded, all whilst comfortable silence descended upon them. An enthusiastic murmur eventually shattered the comfortable silence between the friends as Haedrig started to grin. "How does the name Silver Abyss sound? " After what may have been almost a minute of deep consideration Whitestrake nodded in agreement. Putting his hand to his chest in a gesture of salutation whilst straightening his posture, he formulated his reply. "Very well. Henceforth, I swear - Akarat and Akkhan as my witnesses - that my armour shall from this day onward be known as Hellhewer's Silver Abyss. You have done me a great service, friend. One that I may not be able to repay. " As the friends exchanged firm handshakes, the smithy had some words of his own to say. "And nor do you need to, friend. Just promise me you will keep fighting for a better world. " After letting the smith's last words sink in and exchanging some general talk, the two said their farewells.

By now the Crusader had suited up and donned his new armour. It was a strange sensation to be sure - tradition dictated that Crusaders took up the gear of their fallen masters. In a way, he was still adhering to that tradition - yet in his own unique way, unifying old and new as the armour contained quite a few of his own designs as well, alongside the fragments of his master's ( and his master's master's ) gear. Whitestrake decided it was something worth pondering on, but not at the moment. Thus, he headed to the Vecin Mystic, a kind and mysterious woman named Myriam. No sooner had he arrived there - as her workplace was located in the same hall but on the opposite side - than did he hear a kindly voice calling out. "Celdo, how sweet of you to come say hi to old Myriam. Have you come for more stories or are you here for business like your colleague was? " The Crusader flashed her a bright smile. "Both, Myriam. I wish to thank you for assisting Haedrig in forging Silver Abyss. I was wondering about it's properties as well... " The Vecin mystic raised her hand as if to swat away the thanks she received. "Nonsense Celdo. No need to thank me. I merely thought it would be beneficial to all of us if dear Haedrig could utilize some of my arts, for I may soon have to return to my people. " The Crusader froze in his tracks and had a rather peculiar expression on his face. "Indeed? How come? " "Now now, young one. It is not proper to ask a woman about her secrets, " Myriam replied - complete with her trademark cheeky smile and a wink.

If there was one person whom the Crusader could not fool - or tease with his usual snarky antics, for that matter - it was Myriam. Having met her after arriving in the Stonefort during the siege, she immediately took to him as a loving mother. Something that rather embarassed the Crusader, for he was used to acting tough - such things as friendships and families were not conductive to the crusade, and often ended in tragedy and pain for all parties involved... As such, he had developed a rather thick facade that he, only since he had gained his own apprentice, had managed to even slightly lower. "Celdo, you cannot fool me. I know - as well as your other friends do by now - that the Crusade is not the only reason you keep fighting. " Whitestrake let out a nervous laugh and held his hands up in the air, as a sign of capitulation. "Alright. You got me. Should've known this would happen though, considering you are one of the only people I - not entirely voluntarily, might I add - end up lowering my guard for... " The old woman let out a hearty laugh and replied after she was done laughing. "Celdo, you know this to be nonsense as well. I saw right through you, from the beginning. You may pretend to be a big strong man, but deep inside you are still a softie. " Nervously coughing, Whitestrake ended up trying to change the subject a couple of times. But the mystic was as tenacious as she was wise, and it was about 30 minutes later that he finally managed to steer her away from the embarassing subject.

"As far as I can see, Celdo... " Myriam stated whilst observing the armour worn by the Crusader, " It has indeed absorbed the effects of the flail. However, I sense something else entirely as well... the spirits of your master and the masters before him have blessed it. You can likely expect the armour to become even stronger. How and why, however, I cannot tell you at the moment... I can give you the basics but that will be it. " Whitestrake nodded and started to absorb the information, learning that only by wearing in battle it would accumulate enough energy to have its latent potential unlocked. As to why this change had happened, she could not tell - though knowing her second sight, she might be hiding something. After a round of discussing smaller things, the Crusader had to leave or risk missing lunch again. Bidding her a heartfelt farewell, Miriam replied "Farewell Celdo! Come visit my village if you happen to nearby. " After thanking the mystic once more and wishing her Akarat's blessings, he turned on his heel only to be greeted by a familiar Necromancer. "Goran!To what do I owe this honour? Fetching new mask by the way. Really like the skull design. Brings out... eh... your... deathly... errrrr... charm? "

Before the Crusader could finish his sentence, the Necromancer interrupted with a serious expression.

"Forget it, Whitestrake. We have to go. Time is wasting. "

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

Probably my personal favourite chapter to write so far - I had a blast writing the character interactions whilst trying to keep them in character.  
I'd appreciate it if you guys could let me know if I succeeded and / or point out what could use some work.

And that about takes care of the reformatting / cleaning of these three chapters! To keep a long story short for those new ( or just too plain lazy to read the notes ) to this fic - due to circumstances I was forced to write these chapters using the mobile app for Android. Which, as far as I'm concerned at the very least - is a lot better suited for reading then the actual writing. Formatting ended up all over the place, though it looked good on paper...

Which, of course, you only notice when it's already published and you read it once more to see how the readers will see it... -_-

At any rate, I spent a bit of time correcting the formatting, grammar and rewriting certain other things in these three chapters ( since I can finally work with a friggin' keyboard and mouse again ). As such, I hope to start on chapter 4 soon. In the meanwhile... thank you for reading! Please leave a review - it would be much appreciated as this is my very first fanfic and I could use the input. Dito for any questions or suggestions - I may be able to find some use for them or answer any questions you have.

Till the next time, folks!

 **14th of September 2017:** _Hopefully the final revision. Changed some things so they would make more sense, and fleshed things out a bit. Aside from that - general layout edits, as well as slight grammar changes._


	4. Chapter 4 - Of Bows and Barbarians

Near the old Barbarian ruins of Secheron, two silent figures could be seen heading towards the drawbridge connecting the ruins to path leading out of the woods surrounding them. Both appeared to be men - stocky in build and cloaked in white capes. Furthermore, both bore an archer's quiver on their person - though both had different methods of carrying it. One of the figures, for instance, opted to wear it the traditional way whilst the other wore it on his lower back. If one was perceptive, one could see another key difference as well... the quiver that was worn in a rather unorthodox way emitted small amounts of infernal energy, signifying at least one of the two was not an average bowman. Aside from that not much could be seen of the figures, owing to the fact that they were cloaked and a snowstorm was raging. The two men were currently surveying an old and decrepit drawbridge's condition in order to determine whether or not an alternate route would have to be taken into the ruins. If that were the case, calling it an inconvenience would be putting it lightly as the two men had already had to fight their way through khazra, demons and beasts alike JUST to cross the surrounding woods. Needless to say, they were not exactly jumping with joy at the prospect of having to go through that again - as much as they loved killing the minions of evil. One of the figures broke the silence and spoke up. "I don't suppose you have some kind of grappling hook? Because looking at that bridge, I don't quite think its safe and neither am I quite sure I am willing to risk my life, even for this much potential loot and treasure. Need I remind you that I am a gentleman thief, not a Demon Hunter like you? " Upon hearing that, the other figure sighed and shook his head. "I did not ask you to come, Lyndon. If it's too dangerous for you - feel free to trek back through that forest. But I have a job to do and I am planning to finish it. " The figure named Lyndon shrugged and sighed. "Caius, you do know I was joking right? Sheesh... I would not allow those farmers to come to harm. A rogue and a scoundrel I might be, but I am not a heartless bastard... "

The other figure could be heard chuckling in response. "Do you remember what I said about the crossbow not being a weapon for weakhearted cowards, back when we first met in New Tristram? I meant all of it at the time. And while you might have made some questionable decisions in the past, you are still you - a good man at heart... Believe me, if I had not known that from the beginning I would not have allowed you to join us on our quest. You were one of the few who dared to stand with us against Diablo and the rest of the Evils, laying your life on the line to hold down the fort while we were fighting elsewhere. You were even there for Kormac when he battled the Templar order during Malthael's rise in Westmarch... " The Demon Hunter started to cross the bridge, with Lyndon following. "What I am trying to say is that as far as I am concerned, you are one of the most worthy users of the crossbow that I have met thus far. You have no reason to worry, Lyndon. I consider you not only a close friend, but a respectable ally to boot... And if I end up having to wade through the Burning Hells once more, I'd have it no other way then with you at my side as my sworn comrade. " Lyndon remained silent - after all, he was not used to this much praise. The Demon Hunter noticed and faintly smiled, hoping his little motivational speech had the rallying effect he was aiming for. Not that he hadn't meant any of the words that were spoken - on the contrary. The Demon Hunter abhorred lying and always spoke his mind honestly and freely, no matter the situation.

Not a moment later than the pair had crossed the drawbridge, rumbling could be heard whilst the pair entered what appeared to be a entry hall. The Hunter signalled his friend to halt his advance as well and sent out a shadowy familiar that he had just conjured up from a nearby patch of shadows. It was within his capabilities to summon whatever familiar he wished, but in this particular case he had chosen for a stealthy and small bat - after all, stealth was the order of the day here. As the two men ducked behind cover and waited silently, the bat had already been away for a good minute or so scouting the environment. Both men took care not to expose any part of of themselves and kept their breathing as slowly and silently as possible. After a while the Scoundrel whispered as silently as was possible, taking into account that there was quite a distance between the two men. "Well then... I suppose you are going to do that creepy thing again where you take control of your familiar and your eyes start to glow? " Caius looked at him and let out a chuckle. "Yes, I suppose for one uninitiated in the way of the Demon Hunters it looks rather disturbing. It's something you will have to get used to however, as it is a natural consequence of channeling infernal magic. Now then... time to see what our little friend sees. Cover me. " Lyndon moved away a bit - though he wasn't exactly terrified of his friend's visage, whenever he used his abilities something just seemed... off... about him. It almost seemed unnatural, for lack of a better word - unnerving Lyndon to the point where just looking at his friend in that state made him shiver a bit. Not that Caius could blame him... after all, the first time he had seen his own master channel the shadows he had reacted much the same way.

It was a well-known fact that the Demon Hunters of Sanctuary continously trod upon a knife's edge, having learned to harness the infernal energy inherently present in the shadows. Of course, this was not the only element available to them - quite a few Demon Hunters had their origins as mages and were capable of using any of the other basic elements. However, in order to become a Demon Hunter one is required to devote one's life to one's hatred, rage and despair - an act which usually by itself leads to one developing an affinity with infernal magic. Complicating matters further is the fact that hate tends to beget hate, compounded even more by the fact that utilizing infernal magic has a steep price no matter the purpose it is used for as it taps into the demonic energies that are intrinsic to any human, thus allowing its influence to spread throughout the soul of the person using the magic. Many a Demon Hunter had been lost, their falling from grace facilitated by allowing their demonic energies to run rampant, corrupting them into a demon. Only the Demon Hunters blessed with both a strong will and purity of heart would be spared from this fate - by virtue of their willpower keeping both the angelic energies and the demonic energies of their being in balance - but even they were only human and ran the risk of allowing the darkness in their soul to take root.

What seemed like minutes had passed already since Caius had started channeling. Lyndon was starting to get nervous - after all, the sound of an army on a forced march was getting closer by the second and situations like these tended to do wonders for the Scoundrel's heart... Thousands of heavy footsteps could be heard marching into their general direction, accompanied by tribal war drums and the clanging of steel. Minutes turned into hours ( or at the very least, felt like hours ) as Lyndon spotted a few enemy scouts wandering around the bend - into a position that placed the pair straight in the scout's line of sight. Luckily, the Scoundrel was no slouch with a crossbow - by the time the goatmen had opened their mouths to alert the rest their throats had already been punctured by several arrows. Unfortunately the rest of the army of goatmen had not missed the fact that several of their scouts suddenly dropped dead and their main force was now alerted to the intruders' presence - though it appeared they did not quite have an accurate idea of where they were just yet. Lyndon swore under his breath as more scouts accompanied by brutes started to spread out and investigate. The khazra are strange creatures... mindless brutes, yet with the strategical capacity of uncanny tacticians. One or two lone khazra scouts are not a threat, but when working in unison the beasts are a terrifying opponent. Whilst Lyndon was considering his options a fireball flew by and he was forced to dive out of cover and as a result, ended up taking cover next to a tree. Peeking out from behind the tree he could see mages, brutes and spearmen all preparing for a full frontal assault, with several of the scouts trying to flank him. "Huh. Looks like they really don't want to us here... " Suddenly he heard a thrusting sound from behind. "What the...!? " Narrowly avoiding being disemboweled by a spear, he rolled out of the way and took the offending scouts out as fast as he could. "Well... looks like they are done with the subtleties. Looks like it's up to me to deflect attention off off my friend for now... better get to it! "

Facing the army head on was not a wise idea, and as such he started running from cover to cover whilst being barraged by a wall of spellfire, spears and arrows as the goatmen began their assault. Lyndon was really starting to regret not accepting Caius' offer to train with him by now, as he readied a volley of bolts and shot them straight into the mass of goatmen. Several of the goatmen laughed as their brothers were impaled and continued their march onwards towards the lone Scoundrel, who only smirked in response. "Don't you idiots know? A gentleman never dies, not as long as there is loot and treasure to claim. " As soon as he had uttered the last syllable in his sentence the bolts embedded in his victims exploded, causing mass confusion amongst the ranks of the goatmen and sending them into disarray. By the time they reformed the Scoundrel had already felled several more khazra with his explosive bolts, sending them into disarray for a second time - enough for the Scoundrel to disappear in a cloud of smoke. In the midst of the confusion he slipped past the scouts trying to flank him, eventually reaching Caius. With both men taking cover behind a broken section of the Entry Hall's wall he started to try to get through to the Demon Hunter who was still channeling his abilities. "Hello? Sanctuary to Caius? You mind lending a hand instead of... whatever it is you're doing there? I'll fill in what your pet has seen for you... " Lyndon was starting to panic by now and raised his voice a bit more then he had planned. "THEY. ARE. ALL. HERE. WE'VE BEEN SPOTTED DAMNIT! "

Almost as if on command, the Hunter's eyes regained their natural state. "No need to panic, Lyndon. Keep your voice down for now... I left some presents for them. Or rather... my pet left some gifts for them. "

Lyndon was just about to open his mouth for a sarcastic retort, but was interrupted by a loud crash followed by a fiery arrow whizzing by. "Lyndon, go ahead. I'll deal with these beasts and join you later! Find out why they are here, and deal with it if you can! " Though he was loathe to leave his friend alone against these odds Lyndon gave a small nod and rolled out of cover, making a beeline for the ruins proper. He sprinted past the hordes that were approaching, loosing his last explosive bolt in the process. Unfortunately the khazra had learned and adapted, as they instantaneously spread out to mitigate the effect of the explosion whilst their scouts charged at him. One of the scouts had nearly reached Lyndon and almost plunged his spear into the scoundrel's back, when he was suddenly interrupted by an arrow puncturing his leg. Turning around to see who had the gall to resist, the goatman was faced with a man with glowing eyes wielding two hand crossbows... It was at this moment that the goatman noticed he was not the only one with an arrow embedded in his leg. Multiple khazra had been simultaneously shot at the same time, and as they were furiously trying to remove the arrow they only succeeded in driving it in deeper. Meanwhile, the man readied his weapons and started shouting. "Come, beasts! I will not lose another member of my family to you and your masters! " As the man spoke, the arrows that had been stuck in the khazra's legs started to glow with an eerie green light afore manifesting gigantic chains which proceeded to bind at least half of the present khazra. "You won't escape this one! Taste the vengeance of those you unjustly killed, and the families you've torn apart! "

And with those words, the Demon Hunter engaged the horde. Ducking and weaving between fireballs, arrows and spears alike he proceeded to unleash his vengeance upon the goatmen. The bound khazra were the first to fall - as Caius darted straight through the enemy hordes, shooting every goatman foolish enough to try and hit him whilst acrobatically dodging and rolling past every attack, he dropped off a series of small sigils near the incapacitated khazra. A second later, after running across a wall and jumping onto a ledge higher-up, he shot the first sigil - triggering a chain reaction of exploding sigils. Khazra were strewn everywhere but the army still outnumbered him hundred-ninety to one, even with their ranks thinned to such a degree. Not that it mattered - in the battle against Diablo he had faced greater odds and came out on top. This time would be no different. Jumping down and drop kicking a brute that got too close for comfort he threw multiple knives in a wide arc around him, taking out seven brutes at the same time. "I need to finish this quickly so I can rejoin Lyndon... "

At the same time, deeper into the ruins, the remaining khazra were on guard and searching for the man that got away. Unfortunately for them however, his trail was littered with a certain Hunter's explosive sigils - rendering them down to a third of their contingent by the time the last sigil exploded. Lyndon was following the search party from a safe distance the entire time, and had to suppress a chuckle or two in order to stay hidden. "Hmmm... I really should ask him to teach me how to do that. Maybe I'd make a fine Demon Hunter as well... Just imagine all the loot I could grab! " By himself he already was no slouch when it came down to it - he already possessed many of the skills a Demon Hunter needed to qualify. The only thing lacking had been a drive for vengeance, but ever since he discovered a succubus contracted to the Thieves Guild was the culprit of the murder of his brother in his cell - in the guise of his wife and with her dagger, no less - his despise towards the denizens of the Burning Hells had grown exponentially. The Scoundrel grimaced. "I'll deal with those bastards later... " He shook off his thoughts and dove behind an old barrel, taking care to make as little sound as possible so as to stay unnoticed. Trailing the by now panicking khazra scouts to a large door, he decided to finally take them out. In Lyndon's own words: "Big doors mean even bigger treasure. And even more trouble to boot... " He snuck up on the goatmen with his crossbow at the ready and silently waited untill the door opened before pulling the trigger multiple times, with each pull of the trigger resulting in a bolt hitting a khazra in the head. "I swear, if I never have to deal with these beasts again it'll not be soon enough... " Lyndon muttered. Creeping up to the door whilst stepping over the corpses, he remained alert - he only had a few bolts left and he wanted to conserve them for whatever big baddie might be thrown at him next. As Lyndon pressed himself flat against the door, he leaned out a bit to take a peek inside before ducking into the chamber.

Or so he thought - instead of a chamber he appeared to be faced with a throne room. Not only that, but the Scoundrel was not alone anymore - a spectre was sitting on the throne, watching him intently. On both sides Lyndon was now surrounded by tall, muscular ghosts as weĺ - the apparent spirits of Barbarian Warlords past. Swallowing his fear and readying for combat, the Scoundrel let out a sigh of relief when they stepped aside and pointed towards the throne. "Thank you kindly... so good to see we can talk this over like civili - OWWW! " Lyndon protested as one of the spirits shoved him forwards, towards the throne. "Sheesh... I might be a Scoundrel but that doesn't mean you blokes need to manhandle me... I was just about to greet your king, tell him how beautiful I think his beard - " He didn't get a chance to speak, as the king cut him off mid-sentence. "Silence, Scoundrel. You are here because the ancients have set upon you a mission. " Standing up from the throne, the king stepped aside and pulled up one of the throne's armrests, causing the throne to shift sideways. This in turn revealed a stairway leading deep beneath the ground. Lyndon wanted to ask many questions, but decided against it. The king continued speaking: "Your interfering in this place has allowed us to do our sacred duty once more. Down below, in our sacred burial chamber, you will find a cultist and several fallen spirits working on an artifact of tremendous power. The cult imprisoned us using the now dead khazra as wards for our prison, and corrupted the spirit of our finest warriors in order to serve their evil purpose. You must descend to the depths and stop whatever it is that they are doing, for the artifact is so powerful it warps the very essence of Sanctuary. " Lyndon absorbed the information and did not like what he heard, replying with an annoyed tone of voice. "I wouldn't be so certain about this being my fate... I am but a simple Scoundrel, not a trueblooded warrior like you all! If anything, my friend is the one who has to do this... " The king scoffed. "The ancients never lie. The potential is present in you. Go now, and fullfill your ordained fate. " Lyndon sighed and shrugged once more. "A shame I can't sell it indeed. I do agree with you on account of the artifact however... Very well. I will do whatever is in my power. " The spirits dissappeared as he trudged towards the stairway. Before he set foot on the first step, however, he heard a ghostly voice echo in his head. "Retrieve the Dagger of Secheron once you have completed your quest. It will greatly aid those who art blessed by Bul-Kathos himself, which you will surely be by then. " Lyndon couldn't help but grin after the initial shock wore off - not only was he doing the right thing, but it could even end up aiding him... If he survived, that is. "Well then Lyndon... time to shine eh? Let's get us some loot and save the day! " He started checking his remaining equipment, narrowing it down to a bottle of ale ( "Why the hell did I think this would be useful again? "), five bolts for his crossbow and a keepsake dagger. Not much to work with, but the Scoundrel had learned a couple of tricks throughout the years that might just allow him to stand a chance. As he descended further into the depths the air began to feel heavier. Nothing, however, could prepare him for the sense of dread and malice he would feel at the bottom of the stairs...

Elsewhere, the Demon Hunter stowed away his crossbows after finishing off the last goatman. All around him the scars of battle could be seen - pillars had been torn in half, and walls were starting to crumble as he started to walk across the sea of dead bodies. Minutes passed as Caius silently continued his trek, using his expertise as a Hunter to track his friend's trail to the throne room.

Shivering as a premonition came to him, he started to descend down using the staircase, jumping as he heard the sound of a clash taking place at the end.

* * *

 **Author's notes:**

Annnnnnndddddd cut! That's all for this chapter folks. My apologies for taking so long... my muse can be a fickle little ************** sometimes.  
I deliberately left the ending to this chapter as vague as possible - all will be revealed in the next chapter. I am planning to use these two chapters ( 4 & 5 ) to build on the origins of the strange creature back in chapters 1 and 2... or do I? You'll have to to wait and see. Hopefully you folks enjoy this - if not, please tell me how I can improve. Were the characters in character? Was everything clear? How was my grammar? Am I missing details or spouting exposition like it's going out of style again? Please let me know in the reviews! This goes for suggestions to the story as well...

Gamedon, Signing Out!


End file.
